Advice to the Lovelorn the Overfed and the Deeply Disgruntled
Portia, Portia! Just hazarding a guess here, but I think you may be the twit who lacks a life! You remember Lucretia? She’s been the pigment of your infatuation for some time now, and, well, the sad truth is she also was mine. My name is Louis (Lou) Creesha, a recent arrival here at Lakeside. In search of a new life, I dared to impersonate your soul sister, only to find you reacting to her with the intensity of a pissed-off pit viper. I had no intention of creating a firestorm! I did review your earlier writing, and now surmise that your response to me (her) was not personal, but rather the fulminations of your everyday angst.
What I’m wondering, Portia, is how you managed to become your authentic, acerbic self after your move to this fair Paradise. I’m just guessing that you had a “real life” elsewhere, and were forced to conform to societal expectations. You seem to have created a successful niche here, a place to be your fullest, most obnoxious self.
You do it with such style and grace. I’m sure you have many clues for the neubies like me who seek not so much to fit in as to finally make the world fit us. Before my retirement I spent years in organized crime, working for various government agencies. I am not lacking in skills and resources; still, I find myself adrift. I am puzzled as to how you have parlayed your liabilities into assets, and become the go-to-person for all of the community’s deeply troubled expats.
OMG, now there’s two of you—you and who you pretended to be?! I know that Mexico is a friendly and tolerant country but how the hell did they let you across the border?! Aren’t there criminal background checks, not to speak of ascertaining how much time an applicant for admission has spent in various funny farms? As for your claim to have worked in “organized crime working for various government federal agencies,” I can fully understand how half-wits can work in Congress) but I would think that the Mafia have much loftier intellectual criteria.
But you’re here, and as I pride myself that I can help even the most terminally helpless of expats, I suppose I’ll have to keep trying until you’re sane enough to be deported.